


I Got You Babe

by capismycopilot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Injury, M/M, Minor Violence, i replayed left behind and this au wouldnt leave my brain, other characters are mentioned but dont make an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:32:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12897267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capismycopilot/pseuds/capismycopilot
Summary: Keith convinces Lance to sneak out of school





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is really bad and almost entirely dialogue

Arizona’s rainy season has just begun. Fat droplets pang the glass of the barred, dusty dorm window that barely shielded Lance from the cooling night air. A single blanket crumples haphazardly around his knees and his hands support his head under his lumpy pillow.

“Lance? ...Lance?”

A clammy hand on Lance’s shoulder jolts him awake with a stomach-dropping panic. Instinct causes one of his bony legs to shoot out from underneath him and knock the intruder to the floor with a loud thud. Lance swiftly grabs the gun from under his pillow and aims, pushing curling flyaways and sweat from his brow so he can see clearly. Down the barrel of his pistol is a disheveled teen who currently looks very put out.

“Keith?”

“Ow!” Keith bypasses Lance’s disbelief completely with a groan and a twisted scowl. He struggles to his feet, kneading his side with his fingers. “You dick. I landed on my hip.”  
“What are you doing here?”

It’s then that Keith notices Lance still hasn’t lowered his weapon and he raises an eyebrow at him, trying to relieve some of the tension in the air. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

Lance considers this. He trusts Keith, so there’s really no reason to keep a gun pointed at him.No matter how pissed he is at the boy (which he is). But Keith is obviously not a cannibal hunter here to harvest his clothes and organs, or an infected that wants to rip out his trachea. Just a lanky teenage boy with dark eyes and dark hair (which he STILL hasn’t cut yet). A scar that Lance hadn’t seen before jut into the pale skin above his left eyebrow. Keith has a history of being confrontational at the worst times, so it’s shocking he only has a tiny nick on his face.  He’s got a new jacket, black and hooded with tattered dark purple sleeves banded with the Blade of Marmora's symbol. There are stains on his clothes from who knows where, but everything else looks the same since the last time Keith was here.

“I haven’t seen you...in I don’t even know how long.”

“Forty-five days. Well, forty-six...technically.”

Lance shakes his head. He feels exhausted. “All this time I thought you were dead.”

Surprisingly, Keith has the good sense to look guilty. It’s not a face Lance has seen him make more than once or twice since he’s known him. Before Lance can even notice the movement, Keith is pulling a six inch dagger from a sheath at his waist and handing it to him.

“Here. Just in case you wanted to know what I’ve been up to.”

Bandages are wrapped around the hilt from pommel to guard. An odd but recognizable insignia sat at the shoulder of the blade. It resembled a jagged letter “S” if someone grabbed the top curve and pulled it backwards. Lance had seen this insignia hundreds of times on wanted posters for a group of rebel fighters that soldiers searched day and night for.

“No way...The Blade of Marmora? You’re a Blade?” The words feel a little strange leaving his lips.

Keith beamed with pride momentarily until Lance abruptly snuck to the door and peered into the dimly lit hallway.

“What are you doing?” Keith furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I’m making sure I don’t get caught with a Blade in my room.”

“Relax. There are no soldiers on the entire floor. I checked before I came in.”

Lance smirks and quirks an eyebrow, but there is no humor in his eyes. “Wow...thinking before you act? It really has been a while.”

“Yeah, but it hasn’t been long enough to make you funny.”

Lance doesn’t take the bait. He doesn’t want to argue or banter or whatever it was that he and Keith used to do together. The easy back and forth of playful insults just didn’t seem _right_ now.  
  
Lance huffs flatly and grabs Keith’s hand, slapping the blade back into his palm. “Here. Congrats.”

“Wait...are we cool?”

Lance steps back, incredulous, cutting eyes at Keith. “Are we _cool_? Seriously?”

“I disappeared and you’re mad.”

“Understatement.”

“And I owe you an explanation.” Keith replaces the dagger back in his sheath. “Let’s get out of here and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lance rubs at his face with a groan and can almost feel the bags that are permanently fixed under his eyes. “It’s almost morning. And Iverson will put me through the wringer if I miss another military drill.” Lance indignantly catches the pair of jeans Keith throws at his face. He just realized he’s been standing here in a baseball tee and boxer shorts. Not exactly the wardrobe to have an argument in. You lose all credibility in your boxers.

“Just put on some pants and let’s go.”  
  
Lance sighs and slips on his jeans. Keith hears him muttering in Spanish about how _this is so stupid, I should be in bed._

“Come on, Lance. I promise I won't get you into trouble.”

“Tell me who got kicked out of the Garrison again?”

“I dropped out.” Keith deadpanned.

“Yeah, dropped out before they could boot you.”

Keith rolls his eyes. "You'll be back before sunrise, don't worry." He creeps swiftly into the hallway and Lance lets the door gently click closed behind them.

Getting to ground level was fairly easy. Keith was right; there were no soldiers on the entire floor of Lance’s room. The two boys snuck out the window at the end of the hall and down the fire escape. The rain already caused the rusted ladder to be slippery, and the fact that Lance’s left sneaker was being held together with duct tape didn’t help with traction. With Keith leading the way they managed to dodge two searchlights and duck behind a garbage can when a caravan of patrol cars came through to sweep the quarantine zone.  
  
“Hurry! Up here!” Keith called in a raspy whisper.

They climbed up a busted minivan that creaked under their weight and into the back window of a condemned apartment complex’s laundromat.

“You’ve gotten pretty fast there. I’m impressed.”

Lance was out of breath and didn’t know how to respond. “Thanks.” he finally answered after a beat of silence.

Keith barely gave that a second thought before he headed for a winding staircase that was labeled ‘for emergencies’. “Come on. Up we go.”

Their footsteps echoed in what would otherwise be a slightly awkward silence. The kind that didn’t have to be interrupted by noise. Lance figured he might as well break it anyway. “So how did you find them?”

“The Blades?"

“Yeah.”

Keith chuckled. “Remember that Blade you bit and stole his gun?”  
Lance had the good sense to cringe at the memory. Not his most tactful moment. “Yeah, I remember.”

“That’s Regris. I saw him walking through the alleyway behind the ration line so I tailed his ass. I followed him into the back door of a warehouse near Area 5 and all these Blade guys ambushed me. They blindfolded me and took me back to their hideout. That’s where I met Kolivan.”

Lance faltered a bit, imagining Keith cornered by all those people and just...taken like that. How scared he must have been. “He’s the leader, right? I saw his name on all those wanted posters.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s him. I thought he was going to kill me, but instead he just says ‘What took you so long?’ like he was expecting me.”

“And he just... made you a blade?”

“Not exactly.” Keith huffed, almost frustrated. Like he didn’t know how to continue. “That knife I showed you wasn’t given to me by the Blade of Marmora. It was given to me by my father. He told me it belonged to my mother, and when he left I just...held onto it. It was pretty much all I had left. The Blade is kind of a...blood thing. My mom was in it and now, I guess, so am I.” It all came out in mumbled rush and Lance just barely caught all of it.

He has known Keith since they were both thirteen years old; skinny, scrappy little nobodies with nothing about them but scraped knees and scarred pasts. Lance was separated from the rest of his family, who some were put in different areas of the quarantine zone. Just a few days after Lance's tears had dried, Keith was brought to the Garrison by his older brother, Takashi. He was a tall handsome man with broad shoulders and a deep scar across his nose. Keith wasn't happy that his brother had to leave with a group of soldiers to another city that was having a problem with bandits and raids. Keith's eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks looked raw with tear streaks, but he was quiet and stuck to himself until Lance pretty much forced him to be his friend. They ended up as a group of four with Hunk, a Samoan boy with a smile like sunshine, and later a hard-headed little girl with ash brown hair who called herself Pidge. They stuck together when the drills were too tough, the days were too long, or the homesickness was too much. And not once in that four-year friendship had Keith ever brought up his mom having ties to the Blade of Marmora.

“Why have you never mentioned this before?”

“It had the Marmora symbol on it, Lance.” _Duh_. “I was fucking terrified that it would get me into trouble, so I kept it close to my chest...literally.”

Now that Lance thought about it, it was impressive that Keith was able to keep his mother's blade and his family's identity a secret for so long. And that's when his stomach dropped, remembering four people who were just _suspected_   to be with the Blade. A group of soldiers had them cuffed and lined up against the wall of a building across from the ration line and Lance watched as they were shot one by one execution style.  
  
_That could've been Keith._  
  
They stood there in silence just staring at each other, their weary breathing filling the space. Keith continued up the stairs at a more leisurely pace this time. Lance decided to test him and push just a few more questions.

“How did Kolivan know you had it?”

“When Regris tied me up he searched me and took everything I had. That’s when he found the knife in my jacket. I think it was the reason he took me to Kolivan in the first place. They thought I stole it.”  
Lance huffed a laugh. “Hey, that’s what I would have thought too. You do have that scrappy vagabond thief look to you.”

This got a good-natured scoff out of Keith. _That’s good._ His shoulders look a little lighter and he’s smiling a little now.

“The whole ‘kidnap and interrogate’ thing was a test. I guess they wanted to see if I was committed. They were...judging me, I guess.”  
  
The staircase ended at a heavy tarnished double door that lead to the roof. The rain was starting to let up slightly; only peppering their faces with tiny droplets that felt like mist. Keith grabbed one end of a long plank of wood that may or may not be enough to get them across the rooftops, motioning Lance to help him lift it. The board stretched across the way giving about a foot of extra wood toward the shopping mall skylight.

Keith pushed a probing foot onto the board to test the security. The plank was about an inch or so thick and only gave slightly under his weight, so he gestured Lance to follow. “Careful. It’s wet.”

Lance gave a few feet of distance and then obeyed, maintaining focus on his feet and definitely not on the drop below. The anxiety ebbed when he finally crossed over and joined Keith on the other side.  
“Hey, so...maybe I should join the Blades.” Lance suggested, half joking.

“Lance...don’t take this the wrong way, but” which is always followed by an offensive comment so why does he even bother? “The Blade of Marmora looks for...specific kinds of people to join."  
  
Lance’s brows dropped into a frown. “Yeah how could someone possibly take that the wrong way?”  
“It’s complicated, okay?” Keith took a deep breath to regain whatever composure he had. “Look...let’s just talk about something else.”  
  
They climb through the skylight, being mindful of the broken glass, and into a small office where the floor had caved into a gaping, rotting hole. Keith slid down with Lance close behind. The carpet was damp and gross; the smell of mold was overwhelming. The rooms were pitch black with only their flashlights to guide them. A broken air conditioning unit broke their fall before Lance and Keith hopped down to the lower level.  
  
“Alright, how about this for a subject change: what are we doing here, Keith?”  
  
“I have a surprise for you.” Keith stated awkwardly, almost unsure.  
  
“Is it a shark?”  
  
Keith gave a teasing smirk. “Maybe…”  
  
“I’ll be your friend again if it’s a shark.”  
  
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Keith chuckled.  
  
Lance wondered how many times Keith had been in here. He found his way out of the maze of offices fairly easily before they found the fire exit staircase that led down to the shopping mall. Or, what what was left of a shopping mall. Almost every security shutter was pulled down, hiding shoe stores and jewelry shops. The place was almost completely overrun. Dusty windows, moldy wooden benches surrounding a dried up water fountain, plants overgrowing every nook and cranny. Lance stopped in front of a water gun poster with advertisement in four different languages.

“You know, I got them back.”

“Pidge’s water guns? Bullshit. You’re telling me corporal dickhead gave them back to you guys?”

It was almost too good to be true that Pidge's (pretty awesome) older brother, Matt, got hold of three bright green water guns shaped like pump shoguns. Every time someone would ask where they came from, Matt would make up a new story even more convoluted and ridiculous than the last. After a particularly grueling foot drills under the hot noon sun, Pidge thought would be a good idea to have a water gun fight with Lance and Hunk in one of the empty barracks to cool down. Which, to be fair, went without a hitch. That is until the three of them were headed back to their respective dormitories and Commander Iverson noticed they were soaking wet and carrying backpacks. Lance had to cover Pidge's mouth to keep her from saying something that would get her into trouble when he confiscated the water guns.  
  
“Of course not. Hunk and I had to sneak into his office. Keith, I had them in my hands!”

Keith laughed at the whine in Lance’s voice. “But your ass got caught.”

Lance groaned. “But my ass got caught. I couldn't just leave them, Keith. Those water guns were important to Pidge. They were from her brother.”

Keith's mouth twisted into a strange frown and he nodded. “What happened after that?”

Lance groaned again. “He gave us scrubbing duty for a month. Bathrooms.” They both shiver. _Gross_. “But Pidge was happy we at least tried." He sighed wistfully and mumbled with mock intensity “They will be ours again.”

Keith leads them down a broken set of escalators, which...well, now they’re just stairs. Every other ceiling corner has a flood light that barely illuminates the way with a soft orange glow. Once they get passed a self help desk that has lost all of its colors, the entire end of the hall is blocked off where the roof caved in and a decaying grey SUV from the upstairs parking garage fell through. It’s balanced precariously on an old rusty support beam and a pile of crumbled cement. There is light shining through from the other side, and the vehicle is balanced just so that the beam could be used to hoist it up onto a cinder block and give just enough space to crawl through.

“Lance, help me lift this.”

“Are you serious?”

“Just get over here.” Keith huffs.

Lance grabs the beam and heaves with all the strength in his body. Keith looks like he’s about to hurt himself and Lance struggles to keep his feet steady on the moss covered floor as the metal begins to creak.

“There’s no way we can get through there.” Lance groans. “We’ll get crushed.”

They set the beam to rest and gasp for air, their muscles screaming.

“We'll be fine. I’ll go first.”

Keith takes a step forward and a loud snap echoed through the hall. The car lurches forward and down, sending a rebar pipe caught in the concrete trap whipping out between the boys. The cinder block splinters and cracks causing the support beam to smack down on the rebar and break it in half as if it were a toothpick. Lance and Keith cough and swat at the dust kicked up by the cascade.

“On second thought…” Keith muses “maybe we should find another way around.”

Lance almost responds, but he’s far too exhausted and settles with just rolling his eyes. While Keith busies himself with trying to pry open the locked entrance of an old pretzel stand, Lance notices a broken window above a black door with an orange painted frame.

“Hey, Keith, boost me up and over. I’ll see if I can unlock it from the inside.”

“Shouldn’t you boost me since you’re taller?”

“By like an inch. Besides it was my idea.”

Keith huffs all the air from his lungs in almost dramatic resigned flair. “Fine. Give me your foot.”

Lance takes the small victory and steps into Keith’s entwined fingers. He is hoised up high enough that he can grab onto the window and pull himself over

“Watch the glass.” Keith warns

“I got it.”

Lance perches his foot on the ledge and bits of glass crunch and fall from underneath his shoe, but he doesn’t seem to be hurt. He disappears into the dim light of the room and Keith knows he made it inside only by the thud of his feet hitting the ground.

“Well? Do you see anything?”

Silence.

“Lance?”

The door creaks open slightly with an ominous beckoning and Keith creeps hesitantly inside. It’s a musty shop scattered with Halloween decorations, props, and costumes. Orange fluorescent lights give the room an evening glow and flyers dirtied with boot prints are strewn about the floor. Keith is about to call out to Lance again, wondering how in the hell he could possibly get lost in here when Lance jumps out from the corner.

“BLAUGH!!”

Keith startles with a shout and his feet give way underneathe him. He once again finds himself landing hip first on the floor. That’s definitely going to bruise.  
“Ow! That’s twice today, you jerk!”

Lance can’t be bothered. He’s doubled over in a crusty old clown mask, his laughter echoing under the rubber. “I couldn’t help it! You’re just too easy!” He teased.

Keith glares at him, but takes the hand Lance offers anyway. He brushes off his pants while Lance takes in the room. As if he didn’t get a good look because he was too busy looking for a hiding spot.

“Look at all this stuff! C’mere, I have the perfect mask for you.” Lance grabs the sleeve cuff of Keith’s jacket and leads him over to the first shelf where the only mask on display is a werewolf with faded yellow eyes.

“Get it? Mr. Emo Lone Wolf Keith!”

Keith sends his most unimpressed expression Lance’s way, knowing full well he’s grinning ear to ear under that latex clown head. “I’m not emo.”

“You listen to My Chemical Romance songs and you ate lunch by yourself for like a year at the garrison. That’s emo. Go ahead, put it on.”

Keith sighs and slumps his shoulders, but does as he’s told. The mask is flimsy and it smells weird. His own hot breath is almost suffocating. “This is so stupid.”

“Yeah! Badass! Now roar.”

Another sigh. Followed by a barely mustered “roar”.

“Keith...really? Fucking roar!”

Keith knows he’s being a bit difficult, and that he brought Lance here so they could have fun like they used to. So he digs deep, throws his fists in the air, and roars at the top of his lungs with all the unabashed and brazen pride of a young boy just trying to have fun.

“RRRRROOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!”

Lance is applauding and laughing, taking off the clown mask to display messy sweat-slick curls and a smile that could make the sun shy away in shame.

“There he is! I knew goofy, fun-loving Keith was still in there somewhere! Now let’s go see what else this place has.”  
  
The shelves are mostly empty. A few lone costume bags dangle on hooks. A single jar of fake eyeballs collects dust in the corner where styrofoam skulls litter the floor. Lance pushes aside tin buckets shaped like pumpkins and finds another skull, this one plastic, sat pristine on a purple pillow in front of a sign with mystical fantasy text reading: _ASK SKELESEER A QUESTION AND SHAKE FOR YOUR FORTUNE. WITH 9 DIFFERENT PHRASES. IT’S FUN FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY._

“Okay…” Lance chuckles and shakes the skull. “Are we gonna die today?” He waits, expecting a puff of smoke and a loud booming voice, but there is no response.  
  
“Nothing...What a jip!”

“You have to turn it over, genius.”

Lance is thinking of a clever retort while he flips the skull in his hand. There is an opening where a multi-sided shape floats around in blue water, revealing text on one side. “Oh... _Seems dreadfully unlikely_. Whew! What a relief.”

Lance spends the next ten minutes in the same spot asking Skeleseer questions, not seeing Keith behind his wolf mask with a good-natured eye-roll and a fond smile.

“Is Keith ever cutting off that mullet or what?”

“What is it with you and my hair?”

“ _The answer is in limbo_.” Lance reads. “So...there’s a chance?”

“Let it go, Lance.”

He shakes the skull again. “Are you a buttface? ... _I am dead certain that it’s true_. Well, that settles that, then.”  
  
“How long are you gonna do that for?”

“Hang on a minute, Keith. I’m conversing with the spirits.” Lance closes his eyes, pretending to concentrate. “Will Keith ever be as funny as me?”

“It’s a piece of plastic, Lance.”

“You’re a piece of plastic.” He has to lean the skull a little to see the words under an air bubble. “ _Not in this existence_.”

“Whatever.” Keith waves him off and heads for the back door.

“Hey, it wasn’t me. Skeleseer said it.”

Keith flips Lance off as he leaves. “Well, Skeleseer can suck my dick.”

Lance’s snickering follows close behind as they exit to a balcony on the second floor. A ransacked food court sits below them with a merry-go-round and two cars parked side-by-side.

Lance stares down intently for a brief moment before picking up a brick from a construction pile near the shop door. “I’ve got an idea. See those cars down there? Red one’s yours; I’ll be blue. Whoever breaks all the windows first wins. I’ll give you a head start since I’m pretty much the brick master.”  
  
Keith lifts an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth quirking up automatically with a soft scoff. “Are you joking?”  
  
“Nope. Loser has to...answer a question. No sarcasm.”

Keith chuckles. “What is this, truth or truth? Alright, you’re on.”  
  
Their laughter and quick shuffling back and forth echo over the food court as brick after brick come pelting down onto the paint-chipped SUVs. Keith groans when he just barely misses the first window. He practically growls when he actually hits the back window and it only cracks. Meanwhile Lance has already broken three of the windows on his car. Keith cheers when a brick shatters the windshield into a million pieces. Another throw takes out the passenger side window and half of the mirror. He only has two windows left to smash when he hears Lance whooping and hollering over his victory.

“BRICK. MASTER.” Lance tosses his last brick on the ground like a football and it snaps in half with a loud crack at his feet.  
  
“My car had tougher windows.” Keith grumbles.

“Yeah. Whatever, loser. Question time!”

Keith wrinkles his nose and cringes. “I’m scared.”

Lance’s grin dies down and his eyes soften. He breathes a deep sigh and actually looks...serious. Keith unconsciously steels himself.

“Okay….” Lance begins picking at stray threads on his sleeve, not making eye contact. “Why did you leave without telling me?”

Keith pauses. Because he absolutely hated living at the Garrison? Because he knew damn well that Shiro was alive and his platoon came back without him with some bullshit excuse about how he was bitten? Because he wanted more than anything to join the Blade of Marmora, his one way ticket out of the Quarantine Zone? Just thinking about having this conversation triggered Keith's fight-or-flight response, and he wasn't ready for it. “I was in a weird space. Look, I didn’t tell anyone.”

Keith suddenly realizes he preferred Lance not looking at him right now, because those are the most heart-wrenching kicked puppy eyes he’s ever seen.

“But I wasn’t just anyone….was I?”  
  
“No! I mean…” Keith looks away, still feeling Lance’s eyes boring into him. He settles with a subject change. He can’t do this. Not right now. “You’ve gotta see this thing and we’re almost there. Come on”

He pushes passed Lance with his eyes fixed firmly to the floor. Keith hears him follow close behind, feet shuffling and mumbling under his breath. “You didn’t answer my question.”  
  
There is a heavy, bitter silence after that. Nothing but their footsteps echoing through the hall. Keith wants to say something, but his words seem to stop at his lips and every second that ticks by is a second too late to try. So he settles with nothing. To just let the quiet of night sink over them. Keith leads them through a thick steel door to the right and down a flight of stairs that look more like they belong in an industrial warehouse than an abandoned shopping mall. Complete with worn strips of yellow paint on the edges of the steps.

“What are we doing here?” Lance asks finally. “This place is creeping me out.”

They’re moving passed….what just happened. _Good_. Keith tries his best to make his voice sound normal. “You know how we thought they only powered certain areas of the city?”

“Yeah?”  
  
Keith looks over his shoulder and smirks. “Follow me.”

 _As if that’s not what I’ve been doing all night_ , Lance thought. They ended up in a long gray corridor with multiple doorways on either side. The air was cold and thick with the smell of rust and water damage. Duct taped crates on tipped over dollies on the ground are left to rot. Keith rounds the corner into an empty room with breaker boxes spread across the walls. He zeroes in on one in particular.

“Turns out the whole city has power.” Keith pounds on the lock with his flashlight one, two, three times before it crumbles to the ground. “They just flip the circuit breakers. All you have to do is flip them back.” He opens the panel revealing a steel gray lever with a red handle just begging to be pulled.

Lance quirks an eyebrow and a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “You’re messing with me; there’s no way this is gonna work.” Lance grabs the lever with almost no reservations and pushes it into an up position. The lights flicker on and the sound of the complex revving to life echoes around them. Lance is practically giddy.

“Told you.”

“Wait, so the whole mall is lit up?”  
  
Keith smirks. “There’s only one way to find out.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took a month to get this chapter done ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Laughter echoes through the corridors as they round a corner to a set of double doors. Keith begins to lean on one of the handles to push it open until Lance puts a hand on his elbow. “Wait.”  
  
Keith stares at him curiously and Lance blows air out of his lungs, his cheeks puffing out. It’s almost awkward when Lance finally makes eye contact. Keith rarely sees him this serious.

“I know what you’re trying to do, and...I’m really glad that you’re not dead.” Lance fumbles to continue before Keith can laugh or tease him. “I mean, I’m glad we’re back together and…”

Keith gives a sad smile. “I didn’t mean it. All that stuff I said before I left. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Keith…” the name is just above a whisper and Lance smirks. “You’re such a sap.”

“You started it!” They share a laugh. It’s light and warm. Keith’s cheeks are starting to hurt from all the ear-to-ear grinning they’ve been doing today.

“Alright.” Lance starts to lean into the handle. “Razzle-dazzle time.”

The heavy steel doors open with a creak to the downstairs food court. On the right are the two minivans with all of their windows smashed and glass strewn around them like glitter.

"Whoa, who totally destroyed that blue car over there?" Lance poked.

"You ever heard of good sportsmanship?" Keith asked.

Lance detoured slightly to kick around bits of the shattered windows. "No. Why? What's that? Because it sounds like something a loser would say."

Keith tries to mask his chuckle with a scoff, but it comes out as more of a snort and makes Lance laugh in return, making his way back to Keith's side to stare at the sparkling palace.

In the center of the court the merry-go-round, covered in overgrown vines and flowers clutching the top of the carousel, is illuminating the surroundings in a soft golden light.

Keith speaks with a voice as soft as his smile. “I didn’t think it would be this...pretty.”  
  
“Wait,” Lance’s eyebrows scrunch together “won’t the soldiers spot the mall being all lit up?”

“No, the exterior lights don’t work.”

“How do you know?”

“This blade member, Antok, told me all about it.”

“Man, two months and you guys are already sharing secrets.” Lance muses.

If there was bitterness there, Keith either didn’t notice or didn’t comment. Instead he opts to study the control panel with a frown, trying to read the button labels covered by cat claw blossoms clinging to life. Lance steps up onto the merry-go-round and runs his hand on a blue pegasus with a white mane and dust collecting on the shiny gold reigns. He mounts the muted red saddle and turns to see Keith, still hunched over the control panel, concentrating so hard it looks like smoke might come out of his ears.

“Is there a lever that says on?” Lance teases.

This earns him a very unimpressed side-eye from Keith, who hits a button without breaking eye contact. The carousel whirs to life and begins to turn. Lance’s horse glides gently up and down as if it had never been turned off in the first place. The court is silent aside from the cranking gears and the sound of desert songbirds waking crabbily from their crudely strewn nests on the balconies.

To his left, Lance notices a red stallion with a wild look in its faded eyes drifting at a placid rhythm. “Keith, come up here! Sit next to me!” he grins.

Keith hops up, stumbling a little at first, and straddles the armored horse. He looks around in wide-eyed wonder. “This is kind of awesome.”  
Lance notices their reflection in a dusty mirror at the center of the carousel. He could actually _see_ how happy the two of them were in that moment.

“You know...there’s no place else I’d rather be right now.” Keith finds himself saying before he can stop himself. But instead of Lance teasing him or laughing, he just smiles with the softness equal to the horses’ melodic dance. The dull roar of vibration under their thighs is almost enough to lull them to sleep among the horses.

“Me too.”

The cranking gears slow and something metal screeches loud and high as the merry-go-round coasts to a stop. Keith juts out his lower lip in a pout and Lance whines. “Come on! We just got on!”

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” Keith sighs. “Oh! Before I forget, I found something else.” He pulls a small paperback book out of his jacket and opens it. His fingers block most of the words so Lance can’t make out the title. “Okay, uh...What did the triangle say to the circle?”

Lance gasps excitedly. “What is that?”

“You’re so pointless.”

“Fuck you! You found another pun book?” He’s grinning ear-to-ear now.

Keith smirks. “What did the cannibal get when he showed up to the party late?”

“Um….”

“A cold shoulder!”  
  
They both share a laugh and Keith hands Lance the book. “Here. It’s for you.”

“You know, you might just be my favorite person right now.”

“Just right now?”

“Oh, definitely. Hunk still has the number one spot.”

Keith laughs. “Understandable.”

Lance smiles fondly and runs his hand over the withered purple cover. The paper is starting to wrinkle and tear around the title art of a duck exclaiming that the puns “quack him up”. The yellow spine is bent where the author’s name is barely legible, but Lance knows he’s going to love this book nonetheless.  
  
“Where did you even get this?” Lance asks before vaulting over the railing of the carousel.

Keith follows close behind. “The complex next to the rations line has an old library in it. I found a few books that looked cool, but that one made me laugh and then I thought of you.”  
  
Lance playfully shoves Keith’s shoulder. “Aww. I didn’t know you were so sentimental, Keef.”

“Psh. Shut up.”

They stroll through the mall with Lance reading puns one by one while both supplying subsequent judgement on whether or not the jokes were funny. Most were cute (or at the very least, amusing).  
  
“Newspaper headline reads: cartoonist found dead at home. Details are sketchy!”  
  
They laugh hard and breathless, stomachs cramping and cheeks sore.

“Oh man, I love this book.” Lance slips the paperback into his jacket pocket. He lightly taps Keith with the back of his hand. “Hey, thanks for getting me this.”  
The softness of Keith’s voice rivals the softness of his smile when he gently nudges Lance back. “You’re welcome.”

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward. It’s comforting, yet somehow has a tinge of sadness hidden in its depths. Lance realizes just how much he missed this. How much he missed Keith.

Lance notice’s Keith’s gaze drift over his shoulder and the corner of his mouth quirks into a curious smirk. “Lance look; the photo booth is on.”

It’s a small, cubicle-sized thing. The letters on the top spell out _share snap_ and flash a bright white light at an even pace. A yellow bunny with sunglasses leans cooly on the first S. Next to the entrance is a sign in pink letters that says the pictures are free. Good. Money hasn’t been worth shit for almost twenty years.  
  
Keith pulls back the tattered curtain to take a look inside. “You want to try it?”  
  
“Duh.” Lance grins. “You broke my camera and I only have one picture of us.” He slides in on the dusty purple bench inside and easily makes himself comfortable.  
  
Keith rolls his eyes and huffs, almost indignant. “I told you it was an accident.”  
  
Instead of answering, Lance just grabs Keith’s elbow and yanks him into a sitting position next to him. Keith looks around the booth; The inside wallpaper is peeling in some places and molding in others, but the baby blues and pastel pinks are still visible with accents of white stars and purple stripes. “So we just...follow the instructions, right?”

  
The blue screen is dusty and has a smear of who-knows-what across the corner, but it’s clear enough to see _START_ in white letters and an arrow pointing to the second out of three buttons on the bottom.  
  
“Here we go.” The machine dings when Lance clicks the button. It gets stuck for about half a second, but pops right back up. Next on the screen is Choose a theme! with three to select from. The first is Love, where one bunny blushes and gives a flower to another bunny that is made painfully obvious to be a girl. Dramatic eyelashes and all. Next is Friends, which looks like the same bunny from before is high-fiving a frog with horn-rimmed glasses. The last one is Cool, with a single bunny looking standoffish in a pair of sunglasses.  
  
“Let’s try friends.” Lance suggests.  
  
“I want to be the frog.”  
  
“You can’t choose a character!”  
  
“Says who?”

“Says me. I like the bunny with the cool sunglasses, but there’s only one on that theme.”  
  
“What’s wrong with the other bunny?”  
  
“That one doesn’t have cool sunglasses.” Lance says, as if it was obvious.  
  
“Neither do you!”

Lance surrenders. “Fine, let’s just do the first theme.” He pushes the first button very pointedly almost saying that was the end of that and nope we’re not going to read into it.

But, of course, Keith is obnoxious and he does it anyway. “Love? Are you trying to woo me?” he teases.

Lance scoffs and puts on his best smirk, hoping it’s convincing. “In your dreams, mullet.”

Keith mumbles under his breath “There you go with my hair again.”

The screen lights up with _GET READY_ in a faded baby pink color. A countdown begins: _3...2...1…_

“Okay, smile!” Lance beams and Keith imitates, albeit a bit awkwardly since he’s not used to posing like this.

A blinding flash and an artificial camera lens snap signals that the first picture has been taken. With Lance’s direction, they make different poses for each of the other four pictures and Keith follows along, his smile growing more and more genuine by the second. One photo has Lance slinging an arm around Keith’s shoulder. The second shows them back-to-back forming finger guns held 007 style. The third has them sticking their tongues out at the camera, up close with their cheeks squished together. And the last picture depicts Lance attempting to stick his leg up in the air and keep it in frame, but instead comes dangerously close to kicking the back of Keith’s head. The booth dings and displays the pictures on the screen with a _retry_ and _ok_ option.

“Aw, it’s all done.” Lance wipes at the screen with his sleeve to get a better look.

Keith laughs. “We look stupid.”

“Stupidly awesome.”  
  
Lance pushes the bright pink button on the far right. “Time to print out these bad boys.”  
  
“I can’t believe this is actually going to work.” Keith chuckles.  
  
A piece of paper in a red circle with a slash through the middle flashes onto the screen with an error message PRINTER OUT OF ORDER and RETRY above the middle button.  
  
Lance groans. “You just had to jinx it.” He clicks the button again and again, but that mocking sheet of paper keeps coming back with a sad mechanical ping. “Oh, come on!”  
  
“Maybe if you…” Keith bangs lightly next to the screen, progressively hitting harder. A grey message pops up for a split second of numbers, symbols, and what looked like random nonsense. Lance joins in and pounds on the display and all of the lights shut off. Crackling static fizzles out until they’re left in shadowed stillness  
.  
“Uh oh…” Keith expects Lance to be upset, or at the very least disappointed. But instead he hears him break out into laughter beside him.

“Way to go, Hothead.”

It’s infectious, and Keith finds himself laughing too. He’s a little embarrassed, but Lance is still having fun. Keith is still having fun. Their laughter fades into light chuckles and then into another silence, this one slightly awkward.  
  
“So....”  
  
“So…”  
  
Lance holds Keith’s gaze, soft and dangerous but only for a moment before Keith begins curiously preoccupied with his feet. Lance’s face reddens and he flounders. Thoughts of maybe someone flicked their eye’s toward someone’s lips, and maybe someone stared for a little longer than necessary. There’s a lot of throat-clearing afterward.  
  
“Do you want to keep exploring?” Keith offers with an expression that seems distinctively sobering.  
  
Lance nods. “Yeah.”


	3. Chapter 3

The air is much more breathable and open when they step out of the booth. It’s a little cooler than where the two of them were surrounded by each other’s body warmth and breath.

“We should go upstairs.” Keith suggests. “We can check out what’s going on up there.”

The paint on a frayed Now Playing sign for the mall movie theater chips and peels to the floor. Lance can barely make out the poster for an action scifi movie called Savage Starlight depicting a brown-skinned woman with chin-length hair and futuristic body armor. An empty newspaper stand collects dust on its oxidizing shelves. Lance hesitates at the escalators which are now operational with the power turned on. He decides on a passing step and jumps on before it moves too far away, stumbling slightly yet eventually finding his balance.

Lance laughs and runs up the escalator like a stagnant staircase, moving him faster than normal. “Whoa! Look at me!”

Keith follows, holding onto the conveyor belt railing with a death grip and giggling to himself. Lance turns around and runs passed him down the steps to go again, this time with double the amusement. Keith waits patiently for him at the top of the stairs, shaking his head and hiding a smile behind his hand.

  
When Lance meets up with Keith, he notices right next to the escalators an arcade is lit up in bright neon pink and blue. “No way!” He sprints into the small room like a kid on Christmas morning, heart pounding with excitement. There were the classics: Space Invader, Battle Zone, Defender. Lance sits in the worn leather seat of a coin-op with a racecar printed on the side of the machine. He imitates an engine sputtering to life and vrooms as he violently jerks the steering wheel.

“Oh no, it’s a tight turn!” He emulates a tire screech as Keith sits down next to him, completely unphased. “We’re gonna crash! Oh, hang on, gotta fire my guns.”

“What kind of car has guns?”

“Cool ones.” Lance taps Keith’s chest without taking his eyes off of the blank screen of the game. “Keep your eyes on the road; you’re my copilot!”

Keith rolls his eyes and grabs the wheel while Lance awkwardly leans in front of Keith to pull a lever on the side and makes a noise that barely resembles bullets firing. He plops himself into Keith’s lap and throws his fists in the air, putting on his best announcer voice.

“Lance and Keith cross the finish line!” Man, he misses video games.

“You’re so weird.” Keith laughs.

Before he can dwell any longer on how Keith’s smile just now made his stomach flip, Lance scoots awkwardly out of Keith’s lap and scrambles to his feel in what he was hoping was subtlety. There was something about how softly Keith’s gaze fell on him in the fleeting moments that Lance caught that made his throat catch. He pushes it to the back of his mind, not wanting any heavy discussions to put a damper on their fun.

“Voltron…” Lance quickly fixates on a coin-op with a screen lit up bright blue. “That sounds cool.”

Lance taps the start button in the center of the console, but the blue screen doesn’t change. He clicks it a few more frustrated times and still nothing. “Come on! Don’t tell me it’s busted…”

“It’s busted.” Keith sighs, kicking the side of the machine with a dull and disappointed thud. “I kinda wanted to play it, too.”

Then Lance had an idea, seeing Keith’s crestfallen eyes. A grin blossomed on his face as the metaphorical light bulb pinged to life above his head.

“You still can.”

“How?”

“Same way we just raced with a shooting car, Captain Doofus.” Lance stepped behind Keith, taking him by the elbows and purposefully directing him in front of the console. “Close your eyes.”

“Wha--”

“Just do it.”

Keith gave a resigned sigh and and did as he was told, feeling a little silly. When Lance was sure his eyes were shut, he gently guided his hands over the joystick and letting Keith feel the three colored buttons on the right one at a time.

“You use this to move, this is your punch, this is your kick, and you block with this.”

“Got it.”

“Now it’s time to choose your character.” Lance glances to the side of the coin-op where characters and their synopsis were printed, immediately spotting a girl with beautiful brown skin and long white hair that cascaded over her pink space armor. “You’re playing as the...unstoppable, magic-wielding, drop-dead gorgeous Princess Allura of Planet Altea.”

Keith stared at him for a moment, confused. “Am I supposed to picture all of this?”

“Eyes!” Lance scolds.

“Okay…”

“She stands at the entrance to the temple of Daibazaal; an ancient, mystical building where they hold the Tournament of Champions. Your opponent, Zarkon, steps out of the shadows. He’s this super ripped purple dude with glowing eyes. The music kicks up as he goes into his fighting stance. You ready?”

Keith smirks, able to get a rough imagination of the scene in his head with Lance’s charmingly descriptive story. “Bring it.”

“Round one starts. Zarkon rushes toward you and throws a double punch in your direction. Jump up!”

Keith hits the blue button with his pinky.

“There. He overshot you. You land behind him. Quick, punch him in the back!”

Keith presses the red button with his middle finger. It gets stuck for a second or two, but snaps back up again.

“You nailed him with a wicked elbow, taking off like fifteen percent of his health.”

“Yes!” Keith can practically hear Lance’s giddy smile in his ear.

“He spins around and comes back with a shadow-blade attack!”

“What do I do?” Keith flounders, almost genuinely worried.

“Hold back and block to counter.”

Keith tilts the joystick and clicks the green button with his index finger a little harder than he needed to.

“You throw up your elbows just as he executes his combo. You skid backwards, but take no damage. He grabs you, mash punch to break free!”

Keith mashes the red button again and again until his fingertip is sore. Lance’s voice in his ear and solid presence at his back motivation to win.

“Use different button combinations for special moves. Fuck him up!”

Keith is buzzing with excitement and his heart skips as the battle royale in his head kicks into high gear. Allura’s striking white hair wisps and frames her face as rosy spots flutter around her like snowfall. Her shoulders square, wearing the weight of the universe’s safety like a badge of honor.

Lance leans in close, taking Keith slightly out of the moment by trying to make his voice comically low. “Final move...Finish him.”

With a string of mashes made up on the spot, Keith executes his last combo with a flourish, hardly feeling the soreness in his fingers at all.

“The screen turns dark. Princess Allura’s body begins to glow as specks of stardust float through the air. She slams her hands to the ground, summoning a storm of dark pink lightning bolts. The evil zarkon is reduced to ash. He will never again destroy another innocent world. You win.”

“Fuck yeah, I win!”

When Keith opens his eyes again, he’s not a warrior space princess with magic powers fighting an evil emperor anymore. He’s a boy again, with his best friend at an abandoned shopping mall that he is definitely not supposed to be in. And Lance is smiling at him that soft and easy way that makes Keith’s thoughts scatter, knowing full well that the world they’re in right now is just as secret and just as theirs as the fantasy world they just left.

“Not bad for your first try.” Lance smirks. “So?”

“It was alright…”

Lance gently shoves Keith’s shoulder, who laughs in return. “You loved it!”

“Yeah, I kinda did.”

There’s a muffled melody barely melting through the walls that Keith hadn’t noticed before. His feet move, curious and involuntary, drawn to the music. “Do you hear that?”

Lance stops him with a gentle hand on his elbow. “Hey, so...we should probably head back.” His voice is soft and hazy. “Well, I need to head back.” he corrects himself.

“We have plenty of time. Come on, let’s see where that music is coming from.”

“Keith, I don’t have any more strikes left at this place.” Lance shifts his feet back and forth, angling toward the exit. “Tomorrow we’ll just pick up where we left off.”

  
Keith’s entire demeanor changes. His arms are up and he’s nervously wringing his hands, physically closing himself off. The soft blue of the arcade lights faded in and over his dejected features.

“...I can’t.” Keith mumbled.

“Okay then we’ll just do it another day.”

Keith shakes his head, eyes fixed on the floor.

Lance laughed, short and nervous. “Okay, pocketknife, when?” A niggling sense of impending dread was beginning to take shape in his head and he couldn’t figure out why. Why the sudden change in mood?

“They’ve asked me to leave.”

“Leave what? Leave the city?” Lance’s heart suddenly turned to stone weighing heavy in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. He tried his best to save face, but Keith’s silence and expression of guilt told him he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“I argued with them to stay,” Keith’s voice cracks, which usually only happens when he’s upset. “But there’s an upcoming mission that needs every member in the zone; that includes me. The blades have been making real headway trying to find a cure for the infection. There’s a medical team in Colorado who have been conducting experiments on the cordyceps. We need to transport them and their research back to our main base camp, but...it could take weeks, maybe months to complete a trip like that.” He finally looks up at Lance again. “They’re picking me up tomorrow.”

And it sounded so final. Like that was it. Lance felt horrible about how hurt he was. Keith and his Marmorite buddies are trying to save the fucking world. And Keith hasn’t really had any sense of drive or purpose, especially after his brother went missing. It seemed like he was just wandering aimlessly for years. Lance felt so selfish wanting to keep Keith here, but he couldn’t help it. So he decides to take what everything he’s feeling, everything he’s thinking, and shove it in a bottle. Maybe he should drop it in the ocean and let it drift out to sea until it’s just a spec on the horizon. After a long moment of constricting quiet, Lance forces himself to actually speak.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?”

Alright. Wasn’t expecting that reaction. Keith seemed borderline offended. Lance frustratedly gripped on the hair at the back of his head. “Well, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, some friendly advice?”

Keith had taken the bottle from him. He had grabbed the bottle with all of Lance’s bullshit feelings and smashed it on the ground, letting the emotions scatter and escape into the solemn air. He’s going to keep pushing, because that’s what we’ve always done. Lance can’t help the short chuckle that escapes his throat; he doesn’t really know how to react. Friendly advice? What the fuck does that mean?

“I’m serious, Lance.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“No.” Lance is more despondent now than frustrated. “Why did you bring me here?” To this place in particular.

Keith takes half a step back, cradling his elbows and bringing his walls back up for the first time in years. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know…” Lance scoffs. “You want my advice? Go. Come on, let’s just say our goodbyes.”

Keith visibly deflates. “I…” This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. “I’m gonna go check out this music.” He pushes through the door with more force than necessary, not stopping when Lance calls after him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took months to finish because my ADHD sucks so please just take it

The music led to a clothing outlet. Travel suitcases sat untouched on shelves where the paint curled and peeled. Rust and water stains are seeping through the rugs where a pipe must have burst. Lifeless mannequins in front of cardboard skyscrapers wore checkered scarves and dresses whose colors were once bright and pigmented, now dull and moth-eaten. Lance found Keith with his back turned next to dusty old dvd cases looking at paper planes hanging from the ceiling.

“Are we just done talking?”

Keith glared at him. “I don’t know, are we?”

“You don’t get to be pissed off at me. I’m pissed of at you.”

“For what?” He turned to face Lance fully. “Asking you what you think?”

“When have you ever cared about what I think?”

“I always have!” Keith shouts, taking a step toward Lance. “Maybe I didn’t act like it in the beginning, but…” His voice dies down, lodging in his throat. Keith’s fists clench and unclench nervously at his sides. “I’m trying really hard.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Lance--”

“We were good, Keith. We were better than good and then you just up and vanished without a word.”

“I know that, but I came back!”

“Because you feel guilty? Did you want an out? Well, here it is.”  
  
Keith shakes his head; he’s looking Lance directly in the eye now and stepping closer. “I’m supposed to be held up on the other side of town.” The distance between them is shrinking. “If I get caught with the Blade, I’m dead. Guilt didn’t make me cross a city full of soldiers, Lance.” Keith grips the straps of his backpack in his fists until his knuckles turn white. “This isn’t what I wanted for us...I wanted us to read stupid pun books together and goof off like we used to.”

He lets the straps slide off his shoulders and the backpack plops to the floor, its contents spilling out of the open pocket. Now it’s Lance’s heart that swells with guilt. There on the ground are two neon green water guns with the same scuffed up orange grips as the ones Pidge had. Those same water guns that ended up locked up in Iverson’s office just a few months ago. Now Lance recalls searching through the cabinet he was so _sure_ they were hidden in and coming up empty. Somebody got to them before he did.

“I nearly got shot for these. Surprise.”

Lance slowly picks them both up off of the ground. They’re heavier than they look; full to the brim with water, probably. Bright green plastic is peeling off the edges and they feel rough in his hands.

“Okay… First,” Lance holds out one of the guns until Keith reluctantly takes it. “I’m gonna destroy you. And then we’ll talk.”

A cocky smile slowly blooms on Keith’s face. “You’re about to get drenched.”

“Let’s see what you got, pocket knife.”

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

They both douse each other, moving closer and closer to try and get the advantage. Neither can really see each other until the endless stream of spritzing water slows. Lance is tempted to take a victory lap when he sees he still has some dry spots on his clothes, while Keith’s whole front is soaked. He settles for one of his signature Lance grins.

“De-stroyed. Told ya.”

“Umm, it was pretty close.” Keith tries (and fails) to hide his pout.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“You are delusional.”

“Alright, fine.” Keith holds his hands up in defeat. “You close your eyes and count to five. I’ll go hide and we’ll hunt each other. Whoever gets hit first loses.” He emphasizes the word loses with a tap to Lance’s shoulder with the barrel of his water gun.

“You’re on.” Lance closes his eyes and covers them with his arm for good measure so Keith knows he isn’t cheating, and counts loud enough so Keith can hear him from whatever hiding spot he comes up with. “One...two...three...four...five! Time to die.”

Lance moves forward and starts to pump his water gun, stopping when the squeaking sound it makes is comically loud. Once he’s satisfied with the pressure built up in the toy gun, he sneaks around the barren entertainment section and has to carefully crouch around the shattered glass of a broken tv. Lance can smell the dust collecting on the DVD cases and the fresh static off of the remaining tvs that still work.

This is where Keith’s skills kick in. He’s a freaking ninja. A spurt of water from behind barely misses Lance’s ear. Keith gave himself away hiding behind a display of expensive purses. In one swift move, Lance rolls out of the line of fire and nails him in the chest with half of the gun’s water supply.

“Oh, snap, what was that? I’m like a cool ninja sharpshooter!”

Keith tries to fight off his oncoming smile, but it’s impossible. He playfully pushes Lance’s water gun away. “Alright, alright. Best two out of three?”

“Keith…” Lance sighs “I would love to do this all day, you know I would.”

“But you have to go back.” Keith finished.

The corner of Lance’s mouth quirked into a tired smile. “I have to go back.”

“Okay, fine…” Keith trudged dejectedly closer, looking up at Lance through his lashes. “Can I at least walk you home?”

He says it like a joke, but there is a lingering sadness in his eyes, so Lance’s smile widens into something more sincere and comforting.

“I guess.” He teases.

“Alright, let me go get my backpack.”

Keith starts to head for the door they came in through, but stops when Lance catches his elbow.

“Hey, so…” He gently turns Keith to face him completely again. “I said it like a jerk, but… I meant it. You should go.” Lance forces more words out, afraid to lose momentum. “This is really important to you. What kind of friend would I be if I stopped you?”

Keith shrugs. “Probably the only one that could.” It sounded like he was saying it more for himself than for Lance.

Lance juts his lower lip out comically and scrunches his face up in the most nasal and unconvincing sob he could manage. "No! Don't go! I'll be so miserable without you!" It comes out a little half-hearted, but makes Keith chuckle nonetheless. 

"I'll be fine." Lance smiles. "And you'll be fine...and we'll see each other again." He says it with elated conviction. Like he's seen the future, and sure as the sun rises, Lance still has Keith's back and Keith has his. Whether it's a mile or a thousand between them, that will never stop being true. And the warmth of that reminder melts away any bitterness or resentment that either of them might have harbored before. They'll make it. They'll be okay.

"Here. You should take these back with you. They won't do me any good." Keith hands Lance his scuffed up water gun with a teasing smirk. "Don't get caught."

"Duly noted." Lance unzips his backpack and scoops something to the side to make room for the water guns. His hand blocks Keith's view for the most part, but he does spot a familiar pair of headphones. 

"You still lug that thing around?" Keith reaches behind Lance's hand and pulls out a baby blue CD player with a missing logo.

"Always."

Most of the edges are scratched to hell and one of the buttons are missing, but considering how old it probably is Lance takes very good care of it. 

"What's in it?" Keith smirks

Lance can tell he already knows the answer to that, but he sighs and gives Keith the satisfaction anyway. "That CD you have me."

Keith gives Lance a playful nudge. "You really will be miserable without me."

Lance ducks his head to hide the smile that comes out all on its own. “Psh. Shut up.”

"Hey, follow me."

Keith leads Lance back over to the entertainment section and finds a metal shelf littered with forgotton stereo systems. Part of the display is dripping wet from Keith's not-so-dead-shot from earlier, but luckily one of the stereos is alive with a faint glow from its digital clock.  He fishes around behind the machine and grabs a lone aux wire to plug into the walkman audio jack. Keith adjusts the volume knob slightly, hits play and the speakers immediately burst to life with riffs and chords of an electric guitar.

_Let's make a mess; steal a kiss in the moment. You and me, everything that  could be. Touch, don't go. Stay as long as you like._

The music pulses through Lance's brain, so much more alive than when played through his headphones almost as if the dusty old stereo had been waiting for someone to bring it to life again. He beams, blinding and real cheering as he climbs up on a nearby jewelry display. The glass is dirty and clouded, but doesn't seem to give under his weight (likely bulletproof) so he takes that as a cue to dance. 

"Really?"

"Come on!" Lance laughs over the music. There's no way Keith is too cool for this. "Get your ass up here!" 

"This is so stupid." Keith mutters as if he wasn't currently hopping up on the case to join Lance in the impromptu dance party that Keith technically started. He smiles small and shy while awkwardly shuffling his feet and slightly moving his shoulders to the beat. Lance simply laughs and grabs his hands to get him really moving. The laughter is infectious and soon Keith is giggling and imitating Lance's moves until they're both dancing and jumping around each other, careful not to fall off the counter.

Lance slows, suddenly morose. Keith chuckles and grabs hold of Lance’s wrists to try and get him dancing again, but Lance gently pulls away.

"Hey...what is it? What’s wrong?" _Is he tired? Is the music too loud? Am I gross and sweaty?_

Lance holds Keith's gaze in a deadlock stare, his eyes only able to be described as _yearning_. He falters a bit, but they're close enough that Keith can barely hear Lance's whisper over the music.

"Don't go."

He swallows the nervous lump in his throat, waiting for Keith to answer. The music behind them dulls into a muted background noise. Keith opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to think of what to say. Instead he opts to taking his blade out of its safely stowed place in his sheath. It feels so much heavier than it did before. Keith grips the handle like a goodbye and lets it drop to the ground with a clang. Lance's stomach flips and before he can stop himself he surges forward, capturing Keith's lips with his own while his arms dangle awkwardly at his sides. Neither of them move for a few seconds before Lance pulls back with a guilty crooked smile.

"Sorry..."

"For what?" Keith smiles back, breathless.

"So..." Lance fidgets slightly "Was that okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I was just surprised, that’s all. So..." Keith's gaze drifts around the room, self-conscious "Is Hunk still your number one favorite person?"

"Keith, seriously?"

"I’m just saying, you don’t kiss Hunk." He fights a smile, half-joking. Then Keith's eyebrows knit together after a beat. "You don’t kiss Hunk, do you?"

Lance chuckles and shuts him up with another kiss.

"...What do we do now?"

Keith takes hold newfound bravery and begins to partially intertwine his fingers with Lance's. "We’ll figure it out. But I doubt Kolivan is gonna be happy about--"

"Wait...do you hear that?"

Just as the song entered its loudest point, the sounds of shrieks could still be heard over the strums of guitars and the beat of the drums. Figures violently dashed behind racks of moth-eaten clothing and a hunched body rounded the corner in a janitor’s uniform and tattered ball cap, convulsing and spitting up grimy fluids. Lance shakily called Keith's name and fired his gun at the snarling runner. A single bullet hit just above its chest and it collapsed to the floor, gurgling on its own blood. Keith grabbed his blade from the ground and took Lance’s hand, urging him forward.

"Run!"

They retrace their steps, sprinting back to the mannequin room and barricading the door with tipped over hardware and construction equipment.

"Lance! This way!" Keith knocks mannequins out of their path like a row of dominoes, suddenly feather light in the rush of adrenaline. They vault over a toppled crate and head for the double doors with an exit sign made of dimly lit neon and a flickering E.

"Shit!" Keith slams the door shut on two runners just in time.

"The gate!" Lance shouts, hands grasping at the handle on a shutter door. "Help me lift it!"

Their muscles are screaming in protest as they hoist the rusted gate up and duck under. Lance shoots the lock on the door leading out of the next room and kicks it open. They sprint through the garage full of trucks, lungs burning and feet growing numb from pounding on the cement floors. Down the hallway, a runner bursts through one of the doors and topples over onto Lance. Keith jumps on its back and stabs it until it stops moving, the blade almost slipping from his hands as blood spurts out of the creature's neck and head.

"Thanks." Lance gasps

"No problem." Keith grabs for Lance's hand again. "Come on, up the stairs. The scaffolding is our way out."

The trashing and howls approach louder and louder on their heels.

"They're getting closer!"

Morning sunshine coming in through the skylight and large glass windows beckons them into a half built plant nursery. They hop over all the construction, climb up the scaffolding, knocking off crusted over paint cans. Lance can hear the runners panting like animals behind him and his brain is going white from fear as his body pushes forward on autopilot. Keith extends a hand from his perch at the open window.

"I’ve got you, Lance! Give me your hand!"

Lance has a foothold on one of the rusted bars and an arm grasping for Keith's outstretched hand. His stomach drops as the scaffolding gives way, tips over and Lance drops about fifteen feet to the ground with Keith's terrified expression in full view. Before he can get his bearings, a runner pounces on top of him thrashing its head around, teeth snapping in a barbaric and predatory violence, trying to grab hold of anything nearby. Lance holds it back with both arms, unable to reach for his pistol that clattered away during the fall.)

"Keith!" Lance screams desperately, not recognizing his own voice as it cracks. His arms are losing strength and he can feel the runner coming down closer to his face with its glass pupils blow wide and wild. 

Keith is suddenly on its back and Lance feels a fuzzy sensation come over him as a voice repeats in his head like a mantra.

_“He’s here; he’s come to get me; everything’s okay."_

Keith stabs the infected through the neck with one proficient movement and tears its throat open, blood spurting everywhere like a geyser.

His hands are on Lance in a second, who is wretched and grasping desperately at him in return. They look around, there are no infected on top of them. The loudest sound in the room is their gasping breaths, but the hoard of converging infected can be heard pounding on a nearby door. They haven't found the way around like the other one did, but they'll be breaking in any second. Keith pulls Lance to his feet and they climb out the window and onto the roof, kicking the ladder they used down so the infected can't follow.

Lance tries to slow his breathing as the sunrise warms his still buzzing veins. "I think we’re safe."

He chances a glance at Keith who looks...Lance doesn't really know how he looks. Doesn't want to know. He's never seen that face on him before. Devastated might be the word; he looks like he wants to speak but his words are failing him. Like this was the first time the world had fallen to shit and Keith was the last one to find out.

"Lance..." Keith forces his voice, but it comes out barely a hoarse whisper. "Lance, your arm."

"What?"

Lance sees nothing but crimson spatters on his right forearm and wipes it away, revealing teeth indents marring his brown skin skin still oozing blood. His blood runs cold and time seems to move with the urgency of molasses. He wipes it over and over again hoping to god or literally any fucking person who might be listening that that is not what it looks like, but the blood keeps coming. The curve of the bite mocking him like a cruel smile.

"No." Lance whispers helplessly. His heart is clenching into a painful ball and his stomach feels like it might disappear from existence. "No, no, no. Keith…"

Keith's hands are on Lance's shoulders as he drops to his knees in a heartbreaking sob.

"I don’t want to die..."

He cries and screams himself hoarse into Keith’s chest, gripping his shirt so tight he almost tears the fabric. Keith can barely keep himself grounded. Like he's watching this happen to someone else. Someone he couldn't give two shits about, numbing himself to the reality that that's just how it is. Yet Lance is the last person he can think of that this should happen to. So much so that he never entertained this as a possibility. Ever.

When Lance finally calms his eyes are puffy and his cheeks are raw and tear-streaked. Keith sits next to him with their arms linked, running his fingers up and down Lance’s un-bitten arm.

Lance is unnervingly quiet.

"What do you want to do? Keith wants to punch himself. _What kind of question is that?_

"I don’t want to turn into one of those things, Keith." Lance grips his pistol in his hand. "So...I could take the easy way out. It’s quick and painless. It should be the best course of action..." He lets the gun drop between his feet. "But it doesn’t feel like it."

Keith decides to only respond when prompted, and lets Lance speak whenever he wants to. It’s quiet aside from the breeze as the two boys take in the view. They watch as the sun rises over the horizon; orange mixing with purple and blue with rays of light piercing the clouds. The sky looks like it could go on forever.

"There’s a million ways I could’ve died before today..." Lance breaks the silence once more. "And a million ways I could die before tomorrow. But I told you we’d be best friends forever, remember?"

Keith nods. They were eleven and Lance was mainly saying it just to remind Keith he's stuck with him and Lance will annoy him to no end. But when Garrison nights were their loneliest and Keith missed the companionship he used to only receive from Shiro, it became a comfort. A promise.

"My forever just got cut short, but I still want to live it. Whether it’s two minutes or two days, I don’t want to give that up. So...I want to wait it out. I know that’s selfish of me--"

"It’s not."

"I...I don’t want to spend my last days in the zone" Lance admits. It means he’ll leave his family behind, and the guilt eats away at him. But to get to his mom in Area 5 he would have to go through a military checkpoint, where he would be looked over for bites. He wouldn't make it two feet through the gate before a soldier put him down like a mad dog. And even if he could get to his family, how the fuck would that conversation even go? 

_Hey guys! Long time no see! I only have forty-eight hours to live!_

"Come with me."

Lance let slip a humorless smirk. "The Blade of Marmora aren’t going to let an infected guy tag along."

"Then we’ll leave by ourselves." Keith responds, leaving no room for argument. "I know the way out."

Lance wipes a stray tear away. The blood on his hand leaves a smudge on his cheek. "Okay...just do me a favor?"

"Anything." And he means it.

Lance's voice wavers and shakes. "One day, can you come back and tell my mom? I can’t see her like this, I promised her I’d stay safe at that stupid school...but she deserves to know what happened."

Keith refused to cry in front of Lance right now, so he simply swallows the lump in his throat and nods. "Of course."

Lance leans his forehead on Keith’s shoulder and just...breathes. "Let’s get out of here."

They both get up unassisted, legs moving all on their own. Lance lets the warmth of the sun kiss his face. It was strange; for some reason this didn’t feel like his last sunrise.

_It’s going to be okay._

And this time it wasn’t bravado; it wasn’t over-compensation or a cover.

It was hope.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to actually include a little bit of Spanish, but I'm not a native speaker and I didn't want to butcher the language.


End file.
